


No Sense Is Nonsense  VI- Justice is Afoot

by LadyAna5



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Humor, M/M, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-03
Updated: 2003-05-03
Packaged: 2018-11-11 02:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAna5/pseuds/LadyAna5
Summary: Chapter six of "No Sense is Nonsense."  Possible infidelity scenarios in later segments.  This part picks up directly after the last chapter.("Bonding Spirit")





	No Sense Is Nonsense  VI- Justice is Afoot

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
No Sense Is Nonsense VI- Justice is Afoot

## No Sense Is Nonsense VI- Justice is Afoot

by LadyAna

Author's website: http://ladyana5.tripod.com

Disclaimer: Copyright to Alliance.

Author's Notes: Warm, fuzzy praise accepted!

Story Notes: So many spoilers, I can't keep track!

This story is a sequel to: No Sense Is Nonsense V - Bonding Spirit 

* * *

"Justice is Afoot"  
by LadyAna 

"Ride 'em cowboy! Woo-hoo!" James exclaimed as they sailed over another hump in the road. 

Ray grimaced, his stomach flipping with unease. "How on Earth can you be happy at a time like this?!" 

Vecchio's sour mood did not diminish James' happy attitude. "Hey, it's been forever and a day since I've ridden in the Riv-mobile with you driving like a maniac! We used to do this years ago, remember? But that's obviously before you ripened _to a fine, old age, sonny!_ " Pace capped off the last part of the sentence sounding like a crotchety old man. 

"I don't see how you can describe _this_ as fun." 

"Well, I don't mean to make light of the situation, dear. I'm just happy those bastard's are almost caught. Especially with the holidays coming up! I was ready to arm the senior mall walkers as snipers, just to stop the Trio from stealing for the forth time." 

"For your info, buddy, confrontation is not something I was hoping for." 

Ray clenched his teeth, trying to keep the Riv from sliding wildly on what was left from the last snowfall. They were on their way to join in a pursuit of "The Trio," which the three armed robbers were now calling themselves. They were the criminals who'd been targeting the higher-priced stores at the local mall for months, the very same shopping center overseen by James' security company. It was still early morning and the Detective had received a call not long ago from Fraser, who explained how the robbers were spotted by a patrol car during a routine traffic stop. It resulted in a few shots being exchanged, then a frantic chase that was still in progress. It wasn't long before Huey and Dewey, and a dozen cop cars of Chicago's finest, joined the melee to catch the criminals. 

"I gotta' ask," said James. "how do they know it's the Trio?" 

"I wondered that myself." Ray replied. "Fraser explained the robbery actually happened last night. The Trio was obviously hanging around in the area, maybe at a friend's house until morning. I guess they thought if they left before dawn, no one would notice. A patrol car stopped the car with the same description as the one the Trio uses. The cop asks them to get out of the car and one of the occupants pulls a gun and says, 'Don't you know we're the Trio?' and the car pulls off." 

J.P. snorted and shook his head. "Oh, that's rich. Are these guys gonna' be on, 'The World's Dumbest Criminals'?" 

Ray was more shocked than nonchalant. "What I don't get is the sudden need for such force. Sure, they had stolen jewels and money and yes, they had guns, but they never actually used them and hadn't assaulted anyone before. Now they're shooting at police officers! It doesn't add up." 

"Is Fraser joining us?" 

There was a strong quiver of fear in Ray's stomach. "Yeah, we're going to pick him up. He certainly can't pass up a chance to play Peacemaker." 

Would the Canadian throw himself into harm's way to apprehend the fugitives? It _had_ been a topic of their disagreements. Ray didn't mind the Constable saving the day. He DID mind the Canadian challenging Death to a duel. The Italian refused to think of it, seeing their relationship had been good lately. Plus, Benny wasn't what he should be concentrating on with the potential danger ahead. 

James glanced at his friend. "He'll be all right, Ray." 

Vecchio shook his head, hoping to rid his mind of such morbid thoughts. Fraser _had_ kept his heroism to a minimum lately. "You're right, of course. I don't expect a bloodbath. True violence has never been the MO of the Trio, only stealing. I just hope, if they are caught, Huey and Dewey can pin the other thefts on them." 

Suddenly, a light clicked on in Ray's head. _Wait a minute..._

"Didn't you tell me they had targeted the mall _five_ times? This time would make six." 

His inquiry was met with silence. Ray turned onto Racine, then glanced at his passenger, who was surprisingly turning red and it wasn't due to the flashing light on the dashboard. Obviously reluctant, Pace said, "Well.....the other times were actually at other locations, using similar techniques. It turned out those robberies were not by the same crew, which has been established since the copycats have been caught. It's just my luck for my mall to be the one to give others the idea! You know, sort of like the sudden proliferation of drives-bys, once they realized how effective they can be." 

The Italian let this roll around in his head for a bit before replying, "So you lied to get me to help you?" 

Pace fidgeted in his seat. "Well, okay, I admit I did _embellish_ the facts to motivate you." 

"So you lied to me?" Ray repeated. 

Chagrined, James replied, "Look, Ray, I didn't mean to upset you. I was in a huge bind and didn't know what else to do! My boss, Mr. Parks, was threatening to have me barbecued. Shopper attendance was down to a record low and there was no way in _Hell_ he was going to have this stuff going on around the holidays. Besides, it doesn't really matter because you weren't assigned the robberies anyway. Detectives Huey and Dewey were." 

The cop shook his head. That still didn't make the falsehood acceptable. "Anything else I should know about? Or are you going to let me find these things out as we go along?" 

James sighed, sounding more irritated than regretful. "Not that I'm aware of, Ray. At least not intentionally, anyway." 

The Detective could see the Mountie just up ahead, the red serge glowing amongst the backdrop of a white wolf, grey slush and black ice. Once they stopped, James opened the door and hopped out. "Hey, Fraser! Hey, Dief!" 

"Hello, James. Greetings, Ray." There was a distinct warble from the wolf as they both climbed in the back. "Diefenbaker also states his salutations." 

Pace chuckled and Vecchio knew the Canadian had done it again with his affinity for two Loony words. 

"You Canadians are something else." J.P. said once he got back in the car. "Tell me, how many Mounties does it take to change a lightbulb?" 

Despite the volatile situation at hand, Vecchio couldn't help but smirk at the absurd question. In the rearview mirror, he could see the Constable contemplating his response. 

In his usual, supposedly clueless manner, Fraser said, "I must say I do not know the answer to your query, except for the obvious conclusion, being one. Should there be another number?" 

James' tone was equal to the Constable's sincere and earnest demeanor. "Oh, no. You are correct. It only takes one. But getting the horse in the house is a bitch." 

Ray smiled and James chuckled, but it was lost on the Canadian. "I don't understand. Why would-" 

"Oh, just drop it, Benny. He's just joking." 

"I can see that, Ray. I just can't see why-" 

"Forget it, Fraser! Concentrate on how we're going to stop the Trio." 

"Understood, Ray." The crestfallen voice spoke volumes. 

"Play nice, children." J.P. admonished them. "The last thing I want to do is put you both in time out." 

"You've got some nerve, you brat!" Ray retorted. "Eighty percent of what you say is provocation, the other twenty is a lame attempt to impress." 

"At least I can deliver, you bitter punk!" Pace shot back. 

Vecchio saw the red lights of his fellow officers in the distance. He floored it, pushing the Riv to the limit. "I would really like to continue this, honestly, really, and I mean that, but I think...we've run out of time." Within seconds, Ray did a tight, right turn, smoothly aligning the Riv with the other cop cars going north behind the Trio. A couple officers didn't agree, causing them to blow their horns like mad. 

"Ah, go to Hell." Ray snapped, his concentration now on the two police vehicles ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he checked on Pace. It had been years since the normally calm man had been in such a chase and Ray didn't want him to become agitated. "You okay?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the road. 

"Oh, I'm fine. I'll just be glad when you're done trying to break the sound barrier." J.P. was tense, but handling it. 

The Trio faked a quick right, causing the lead cop car to fly straight into an embankment. Ray chastised himself for bringing J.P. along, even if it was his mall they were terrorizing. Fraser would've made it there by plane, train, auto or bison, adding to the already rising chaos, so debating his attendance was futile. Mainly, the cop hadn't expected this kind of retaliation from the criminals. In their prior thefts, they'd brandished guns, yes, but they'd never fired one until now, even when faced with capture. They were lawbreakers who simply stole, who didn't deepen the trouble they were in by racking up the offenses. Why the sudden slant towards such violence? It didn't really matter. Attempted murder of a police officer and evading arrest could be added to the list of crimes they'd committed. 

Vecchio had to remember to relax his hold on the steering wheel, since he had a tendency to grip it tightly. Also, it was imperative he try to alleviate the tunnel vision one can easily get when their eyes are pinned on the perpetrator going over ninety miles an hour, making snap decisions difficult. Officers had been known to slam into the patrol car directly in front of them because they were too fixated on the vehicle they were after. The irony was not lost on Vecchio, that he'd learned some of his fast-acting driving techniques, from James. 

Another quick left and they were all driving directly into the blazing dawn. It was rare for the sun to be up now, but even stranger for the cloud cover to be next to nil. The bright gold blinded Vecchio, so he squinted...and his heart froze. The car the Trio was driving, flipped repeatedly, first in a circle, still on the ground, then two full circles over and over. The patrol car directly in front of Ray hit the brakes, causing it to slide to the right, jump the curb and hit a mailbox. Both cars had succumbed to the icy roads and the Sun. Ray, trying to avoid the same, applied the brakes in a pulsating pattern. The Riv slowed, but not by much. He held off until the last millisecond, then slammed on the brake peddle, the screeching piercing his ears. They stopped within five feet of the Trio's banged up car. The occupants of the Riv slowly raised their heads. 

"Is everybody all right?" The Mountie asked. 

***:::POW!:::KA-PING!:::***

"Everybody down!" the cop yelled. The Trio was shooting at them! 

Vecchio could hear the other patrol cars pulling up, stopping, car doors opening, but not closing. It was the most horrible sound to _not_ hear. It meant the other officers were preparing for a standoff, in the early morning, right in the middle of the street. Police were yelling at bystanders to get the Hell out of there and guns were being cocked and footsteps were everywhere. 

:::You okay, Vecchio?::: came over the radio. It was Jack Huey. 

Ray grabbed it, hissing, "Not really, if you know what I mean!" 

:::How many in the car with you?::: 

"Me and two civilians. Fraser's one of them. Oh, and the wolf's here too." 

There was a pause before Detective Thomas Dewey came on the line. :::We got a situation here, Vecchio. You are pinned between the Trio and us.::: Even over the dispatch, the man sounded irritated. Ray knew Dewey wanted blow up, demanding to know why Vecchio got involved to begin with, since it wasn't his case. Huey's second partner was so overly ambitious at times, it could be obnoxious. Thomas was probably worried the Mountie would defuse the situation and the fellow detectives who'd been investigating the crimes this entire time would have to share the glory. The Italian knew that _so_ wasn't happening, if Dewey could stop it. Adulation was the least of Ray's worries. 

"You got any ideas, you let me know!" Ray said back. 

Pace was nearly squeezed under the glove compartment of the Riv. "How many bullets does he have left?" 

"That's a snub-nosed, thirty-eight revolver." Fraser answered. "Adding the number of shots fired when they were first stopped, plus the ones fired now, indicate the number left is probably about two." 

*:::CRACK!::zzzZING:::* 

"Make that one." 

Ray took the chance and poked his head up just enough to see the car ahead was turned almost completely to the left. Two of them had scurried out the back and was huddled behind the left side, near the rear tire. The shooter was near the front of the car and there seemed to be a heated exchange going between the one with the gun and the other members of the felony team. The Detective strained to hear their debate, when Fraser piped up. "The one with the weapon is very young." 

"What are they saying?" whispered James. 

Silence. "I'm..not entirely sure...but I think...one of the older robbers is the father of the child doing the shooting." 

Ray cupped his forehead. "Great family past time, teaching your kids how to shoot." 

In a low voice, Fraser replied, "Well Ray, I learned how to shoot at a young age and-" 

"Fraser!" The cop growled. "What else are they saying?!" 

A pause, then, "The father is wounded and their friend is severely hurt. He's trying to get his son to drop the gun. Ray! Tell the other officers to back off. I think I know how to diffuse the situation." And without even waiting for a response, the Mountie bolted from the car. 

"FRASER!" Ray whispered loudly, to no avail. Panicking, the Italian grabbed the mike and blurted, "Hold your fire! Hold you fire! Everybody back off! Fraser is out there!" 

A seething Dewey came on the line, ::: I swear, Vecchio, if you ruin this.::: 

"You discharge your weapon, Thomas, and I'll make sure you are the one who's hit by friendly fire!" 

Not waiting to debate the issue, the cop also exited the Riv, his gun drawn. The blood was pounding in his ears so fiercely, he could barely make out the Inuit tale Benny was telling. It had something to do with obligation, a sheep, manhood and a sunrise. All Vecchio could do was keep his blurry eyes trained on the small, dangerous mound behind the car. With a rotating, excruciating clarity, he could see all that could go wrong here...and yet he couldn't think at all. He really didn't feel anything, except a removed observation. He couldn't understand why he felt so empty. Suddenly, the child popped up, aimed the gun and fired at the Mountie. Fraser was hit.....and the Mountie spun counterclockwise, brutally landing on his back. 

Ray could only watch as he heard a weapon fire, but knew it wasn't his own. It struck the gunman in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground. A fog ensued his mind as the bedlam around him took over. He could barely make out Huey screaming for everyone to hold their fire as he and Dewey approached the car. Ray could only assume it had been Huey who'd shot the gunman. Another member of the Trio was screaming for medical help. Mechanically, the Italian walked over to the radio, ordered an ambulance, then went over to the bleeding Mountie and knelt on the ground beside him. Ray blocked everything else out as he took hold of the Constable's hand and applied pressure to the wound. The Mountie was hemorrhaging, but not badly, from the chest region, just below his left collar bone. It was soaking through the serge, leaving random shades and hues of red. Benny's voice distracted him from such a noxious appraisal. 

"It's okay, Ray." the pale Canadian stated. "I'll be fine." 

Vecchio blinked at the absurd statement, more amazed he was becoming familiar with functioning while numb. He heard someone say two ambulances were was on the way, for Mountie and Trio alike. "You didn't have to do that, Benny." Ray said, his tone flat. "You knew that kid was almost out of bullets." 

Benny's eyes were bright and far away as he spoke. "Yes, I did...have to, Ray. That young man ::coff,coff::: needed to learn a valuable lesson. He was too scared to listen to reason." The feeble hand of the Constable batted at the area near the wound. "It's just a torn muscle, from what I can tell. A simple operation to remove the bullet is needed, some repairing of the inner tissue and minimal scaring, most likely." 

_Don't puke. Oh, dear God, please don't let me puke._ A wave of sickness hit the Detective and he swallowed hard to fight back the great nausea. 

"EMS is here, Detective." Ray heard from behind. He glanced around to see a sympathetic Lt. Welsh gazing down at him. This specific scenario between the three of them was occurring way too often. Ray backed off and let the paramedics do their work, as they'd done several times before on the Constable. Still kneeling in the street, strong hands were placed on his shoulders and Vecchio looked up, surprised to see James. For a split second, he wanted to ask why Pace was here. "Come on, Ray. I'll take you to the hospital. It looks like you're in shock." 

"I'm fine." Ray replied, just as emotionless as before. 

J.P. wisely did not argue the point, helped the Detective into the Riv and followed behind the screaming EMS. He did insist on driving, however. 

Once all them were at the hospital and Fraser was assessed, a bland looking woman came out, dressed in light blue scrubs. 

"It doesn't look too serious, but that's out of sheer luck." 

"Sheer luck?" Ray asked. 

"From the X-rays, it looks like it came within an inch of the heart. Honestly, it really looks like a torn muscle. We'll remove the bullet and do some repairing on the inner tissue. The scaring should be minimal." A deep chill came over the mostly unfeeling cop, yet somehow, he still could hear her. "It could be hours until he's out of surgery, Detective, and another few hours after that until he's able to talk to you. Why don't you go home until we call?" said the sympathetic doctor. 

"Where can I wait?" was his only response. 

"In here, Detective." she said, grabbing some keys out of her pocket. They went over to a small room with big, soft chairs and a small table. It was a quiet place for those suffering from grief or those waiting not to. Ray was getting sick of this falsely sincere location. He'd been here numerous times, on other instances of the Canadian's injuries. 

"Come on in, Ray." said James, guiding the traumatized cop inside. 

Once they'd sat down, Pace asked, "Do you want anything?" 

_sheer luck_ The horror that was previously bouncing around inside him curled into a tight ball in his stomach. 

_How about something to help me get through the next eight to ten hours?_

"You think you could sneak Dief in here? He hates being alone in the car when this happens." 

"Sure." The quiet in the room began to grow thick. As always, J.P.'s extended silence spoke for itself. That's how Vecchio knew James was truly surprised or disturbed. It was more than apparent Pace had no idea what to say. The Detective couldn't blame him. What could be said in a time like this? 

Finally, the other man offered, "I'm sorry, Ray." 

_sheer luck_

The cop shook his head. He tried to offer an explanation/appeasement/justification. For him and for his company. His forced words rang hollow, "As silly as it sounds, this really doesn't happen often. Fraser is usually much more careful in such situations. Even he gets unlucky occasionally." 

"Ray.....Are you going to be okay?" 

The inquiry held a ton of meaning. J.P. didn't mean just right now or in a few hours or days. It was the other man's way of asking if Ray could go on like this, with his lifemate constantly flirting with Death. They had touched on Vecchio's increasing dislike of the situation, of Fraser courting the afterlife like a quickie, but they never really had a deep discussion about it. And yet, a true Mountie fan, hearing the Canadian's judgement of his own injuries, would argue it mirrored the physician's nearly lethal, but ultimately moderate, diagnosis. It was true. If the Detective could somehow accept the horrifying fact Benny's life had been spared by an inch, fate or divine intervention, then maybe Ray could bear Fraser's clinical, dismissive, but nonetheless accurate, appraisal of the situation. 

In any case, Ray understood Pace's confusion. During his entire association with Benny, others repeatedly asked him how and why did he put up with what the Constable did. And his response was always the same, that Fraser was his best friend and lover and when you care about someone that much, sometimes you forfeit your sanity to bring them joy. Did it really matter these death-defying stunts were becoming more frequent and more risky? What other alternative did he have? 

"Look, I know you don't get it. It's just the way he is, you know? It's who he is, it's just the way he does things. I knew that when I first met him, from the first case we worked together. I can't ask him to stop or change.....it's such a big part of his life. I just want him to be happy and this, believe it or not, makes him happy." 

Quietly, James chimed in, "That's what happens when you marry a cop." 

Ray looked up and Pace was slightly smiling and Vecchio realized the man was correct. A Canadian cop is exactly what Fraser was, until he own country disowned him. But that was beside the point. This was beyond leaping from tall buildings in a single bound or outrunning a bomb-wielding train. Unfortunately, it was becoming insane, especially these days. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Benny had a death wish. And Ray had no idea how to tell his friend of that kind of fear, life and tolerance. 

_sheer luck_

The words of the doctor would not stop pummeling his mind. Ray stood, intent on escape. "I have...I have to go someplace." 

"To where?" asked Pace, who was highly concerned about his friend's mental state. 

Ray stood there, his eyes tightly shut. He didn't want James following after him. This was a trip he wanted to make alone. Summoning what strength he could, he looked at J.P. and said, "Don't worry about it. I'll be back, I promise. I just need to make this stop. It's become a tradition of sorts. You go get Dief in the meantime." 

"Well, okay." J.P. said skeptically. "Just hurry back." 

"Yeah, sure." Ray said, wiping the tears from his face. 

As he left the quiet, little room, the sounds and smells of the ER were abrasive, alarming. He found his way out of the trauma center and managed to make it down a long corridor. After several turns, he finally made it to his destination. Once he entered, the silence was deafening, even though the outside hallway was clear. Forgoing all formalities, he plopped down into a pew, lowered his head and began to pray. Not long into a common recital of a Catholic proverb, he halted his rocking back and forth. Stunned, it was then Ray Vecchio's grief manifested into tears. And he made an unusual request. 

_Is there a limit to bargaining with God?_

* * *

It was early Sunday morning, in the beginning of December. Ray Vecchio ran along the damp, slushy, concrete path that was littered with frozen footprints. Marveling at the silence in the cold, wet city, he darted over branches, swung around lamp posts, whizzing by the other apartment buildings and homes that dotted the urban territory. The air was crisp and chilly, clearing the Detective's mind of sleep. He liked this area where he and Fraser lived. It was a lively community, much like where he grew up. Benny made sure, of course, that West Racine wasn't too far away, with his still trying to help the folks in the hazardous neighborhood, as well as where they presently resided. There were barely any cars and even less people out at this hour, not that he was honestly paying much attention during his daily run. He was just trying to make sure he didn't slip and twist his ankle. 

_That's all Fraser and I would need at this point._

The Italian was agitated, even though the previous two weeks had been good. Yet, the Detective's present anger had little to do with their vacation, from which they had returned a few days ago. They hadn't been able to take the full two weeks they'd hoped for, with Christmas coming up. They had to settle for only ten days, thus making the trip to Robert Fraser's cabin impossible. The Mountie was somewhat disappointed, roughing it within half day's drive to society, and yet a good time was had by the both of them. It was evil fate that was causing his present irritability. It was silly, really, to worry and fret about such a thing, with all that was going on around him, with his job, his family and Fraser. But it cut him deeply, rendering him nearly to dependancy, which he despised. 

The Riv had been giving him trouble lately. There was very little that could irk him the way it did when his baby was having problems. The worse part about it was that repairs to a vehicle was a compliant that ran rabid in society. Said information, that surgery on stalled, private transportation was a common problem, did not make it any easier. And getting someone honest work for a fair price was the same as discovering Hoffa alive. 

_How the fuck difficult is it to get a car to move?! I swear sometimes I think God has his finger on the 'spite' button when it comes to me._

Vecchio wasn't a mechanic, never having the patience to learn the inner-workings of his prized possession. A pilot, instead of an engineer. Helplessness haunted him when the car would act up, mainly because he had little knowledge to correct it. Placing the item he loved so dearly in the care of another was bad enough. Ray wasn't one to successfully haggle, to adequately bargain, getting what he wanted at a reduced cost and delivered yesterday. This meant he had to rely of the help of others, hoping they'd correctly, and inexpensively, get the job done. And finding that person was similar to winning the lottery, minus the chickens. 

_Lying grease-monkeys! They must have a Bachelor's in dishonesty, with PHD in arrogance._

The sun cleared the horizon just as he made it back to the apartment. Even in early December, the Italian was dripping with sweat, his clothes soaked and sticking to his skin. The delicious smell of raisin-bread french toast permeated the place, making his mouth water. Benny's cooking had improved since they'd gotten together, which was definitely a blessing. Thinking of his lover made him feel a bit less depressed. Suddenly, Ray _did_ feel good, even grateful. But for a different, yet related, reason. This positive feeling when he thought about his partner was good thing and for that he was thankful. It had been a serious concern for him, since they were having problems, that he would associate the Mountie with malignant sentiment. He didn't want to cringe every time someone mentioned the one he loved. However, that positive perception was better, having had vacation time alone with the Constable. They'd sent much time talking and enjoying the solitude of the wilderness. 

"Morning, Ray." 

The Detective turned around, seeing Fraser come out of the kitchen. 

"Hey, Benny. You're done cooking breakfast already?" 

"Yes. I got up not long after you did." 

"It smells great!" 

"Thank you, Ray." 

The Constable was dressed, having washed up during Ray's run. Ben came closer, held Ray's cheek and kissed him gently, sensuously. It stirred the Detective and he leaned into his partner. Vecchio had to admit, even though they rarely made love, their relationship wasn't devoid of affection. Ben loved to kiss and cuddle, be it chaste and reserved. Sometimes, the cop tried not to react, to keep his breathing steady as a strong hand caressed his thigh while driving. He'd sometimes ignore his pounding heart while Fraser nuzzled his neck during a program they were watching. Even when it got intense, it didn't evolve into anything more, hence his restraint. Vecchio _was_ a little forlorn when Benny showed no intimate interest while in the woods. The Mountie _was_ recovering from a gunshot wound, after all. But there were other things to be grateful for. 

_At least he didn't try to kill himself. Not once in ten whole days!_

The Italian was satisfied for now with the small demonstration of the kiss and let his lover silently know that by smiling a bit, then grabbing the water bottle he left on the dining room table and downed half of it instantly. Concerned he hadn't let his body cool down enough during the last portion of exercise, Vecchio placed one foot on a nearby chair and leaned in, stretching the tingling muscles in his legs. He did the same to the other one as well, to prevent cramping. The Mountie walked over to the large bag that held the last remnants of supplies from their trip. Ray wanted to savor the last bit of their time off and hadn't felt like stashing away the camping equipment all at once. It made him feel good to see the luggage still in the corner of the room. The coming week at the precinct was going to be busy, with meetings, research and canvassing the city for interviews. Hence, his not wanting to store the memories of their time away. Benny seemed to understand that and let it stay for the time being. 

"Boy, am I glad you brought that bag along to store things in the tree. I couldn't believe those racoons! I know they wanna' get into your stuff, even take some shiny things, but do they have to hold a conversation while they do it?!" 

"I'm afraid so, Ray. They will get into a person's belongings, if you're not prepared." 

"I was just shocked they _insisted_ on trying to steal our licence plate!" Vecchio had to smile at the memory of shooing away the determined creature. "I'm gonna' go shower. See you in a few." 

Fraser smiled. "Understood." 

Vecchio grabbed his clean clothes and headed for their bathroom. Still high from his workout, he climbed into the shower and vigorously scrubbed himself until he was squeaky clean. He got out, dried off, got dressed and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Scanning his features, for the first time in along time, Ray was actually beginning to like what he saw. The positive effects of jogging and eating right were starting to show. At James suggestions, adding fruit, rice and veges helped him cut down on his typically heavy meals of pasta and pizza. It turned out to be essential, if he where to continue his running. His calves were pronounced, the thighs more defined. His skin glowed. Running a hand over his flatter-than-ever stomach, he smiled. All his hard work had paid off and he had Pace to thank for it. 

_I'll never look like him, but I can at least once again outrun the mug! I wonder what that chiseled-chinned fool is up to?_

As the CEO of Aegis Security, James had been incredibly busy with the holidays quickly approaching and the mall _had_ to be staffed to the max with protection, even though the robbery gang, the Trio, was now defunct. Lately, Ray and James had only seen each irregularly, which was why the Detective was running alone today. Exhausted, Pace left a threatening message on the cop's cell phone voice mail: Should Vecchio call him for anything other than an earthquake, it would result in slow death. He would return as the Detective's workout partner soon enough. 

Ray came out to the table filled with food. Just looking at it all made him sleepy. How he was going to get all his chores done before falling into a coma was beyond him. Sitting down at his plate, his hand was grasped by the Mountie. Ray looked up in mild surprise. 

"We'll get her fixed, Ray." 

Vecchio closed his eyes. Benny could read him like a book sometimes. "Is it that obvious?" 

Fraser spread out his napkin. "You care about the Riviera, Ray. That's not a bad thing." 

"I'm just worried, ya' know? I always think their gonna' make it worse, then tell me I gotta' pay for all kinds of extras. And then she just sits for weeks." 

"That won't happen this time." Fruit was put on Ray's plate and scooted closer. 

"How do you know that, Benny?!" Vecchio picked up the orange marmalade, opened it. "No offense, Fraser, you know about a lot of things, but the Riv ain't one of them." 

"I discovered it when the frame was welded over a car that was not a Riviera." 

The cop took a bite of his french toast, not wanting to admit the Mountie was right. "That doesn't mean it's gonna' be so easy this time." 

"Ray, look at me." 

The Italian glanced away, still pouting. His gaze finally came to rest on the man before him. "What?" 

Fraser stated, matter-of-factly, "I'll talk to them." He returned to his breakfast. "It will be all right, I promise." 

Warmth spread through the American as he looked at Benny. Such simple, reassuring words from the man he loved lowered his grief immensely. When Fraser set his mind to something, when there was a task to be handled, there was little that could stand in the Mountie's way. It was a huge relief to Ray, to know the classic car would be handled expertly and quickly. The Detective was more than capable, responsible in just about every aspect of his life, a person who looked out for friends and family alike, never one to shirk his duties or to be lazy when life demanded action. But he simply did not have a gift for bartering, to charm people into his good graces. Acquiring notes from Cheryl in records on the latest crimes was one thing. Persuading the auto guys to fix his precious vehicle for less than a grand and before next year was simply out of his jurisdiction. All he did was wind up appearing demanding and impatient, especially if the person looked like they were trying to screw him over. Then it would be an extended wait before the Riv would be returned, with a serious increase in price. Benny was a balm to his rash attitude, calming the worker in question, collectedly stating they were, in fact, trying to cheat them. This, of course, caused the shyster to confess his guilt. Hell, at the end of it all, the guy would be, at best, a good informant. At worse, a reluctant ally. Which the Mountie would take full advantage of, of course. How could the Italian be anything other than incredibly grateful? 

"Thanks, Benny. I owe you one." 

"I'm just glad you'll be happy when it is repaired." The Mountie stood to retrieve the orange juice from the fridge. 

"Me, too." Vecchio took a bite of his melon slice. "So, what time do you go to work tomorrow?" 

A few seconds passed, as the Constable stood there, his back to Ray, slowly pouring the juice. The Italian was starting to wonder if Benny had heard him when the Canadian spoke. "I don't go to work tomorrow." 

"Oh? Why not?" 

"I'm...I'm being cut back to part time." 

Vecchio almost choked on his coffee. " _What?!_ Why on Earth would they do that?! I thought you were going to take over Thatcher's duties." 

Fraser spoke in a tight voice, indicating this was very difficult for him. "Her promotion has been put on hold. That's why she was called away a while back. They were reviewing her request, her work here and ultimately decided against allowing her to leave." 

Ray's stomach was getting tight. He didn't like where this was going. "But why punish you for that?" 

Finally Fraser turned around. His face was flushed and he wrapped his arms around himself. "What difference does it make, Ray? The point is, she had no reason for me to continue to train with her, so she gave me a few days off. I can't blame her, really." 

_Leave it to Benny to see the good in everything._

It made Ray's heart ache to see his partner in such pain. He knew how important this advancement was for the Mountie, seeing the silly tasks the Dragon Lady normally assigned him. Here was the Canadian's chance to at least feel good about his work. Now, all that was put in limbo. "When did you find out?" 

The Mountie came to sit down at the table, two full glasses in hand. "I had an idea for a while. First, my hours were rescheduled back to normal, then the Inspector quickly leaves for Ottawa. Plus, I don't think she was very happy with me taking time off after the incident with the Trio." Fraser glanced up at Ray, who said nothing. The cop thought it pointless to talk about Benny being shot by the youngest member of the robbers that were previously targeting the mall. Earlier, Benny tried to absolve his actions by stating the child had greatly improved his life since the shooting. It scared the young thief straight, as it were. Still, it upset Ray greatly that Fraser was trying to use the "the end justifies the means" argument, even if Benny was right about his own injuries, that they weren't severe and he healed just fine. 

Grudgingly, Vecchio replied, "What _I_ thought was wild was it turned out that kid wasn't the usual third member of the Trio. That was why he went nuts during the traffic stop. His dad had brought him along to initiate him into a life of crime. Wonderful aspirations to have for your children! Anyway, what were you saying about Thatcher?" 

"I checked the answering machine after we got back. She left a message stating what had happened and that I didn't have to come in." 

"I am so sorry, Benny." 

"It's not your fault, Ray. It will be all right." 

Fraser continued eating, glumly staring at his plate. The Detective had little idea what else to say to his partner. It was a terrible state to be in, to feel useless. Here the Constable was willing to do what was needed to get the Riv moving again, even after being told his job was less than he'd hoped. Vecchio thought of what he could do to make his partner feel better. He considered suggesting getting the chores done that morning, so they could spend the day with each other. The apartment still needed cleaning, laundry to be done and there was also shopping, cooking and dishes on today's to-do list. It would be a start in distracting the Canadian from his bad news, with Meg getting revenge on the person who least deserved it. There was another way, however, to get the Mountie out of his blue funk, one that made Ray's head hurt at the very notion. To lifts Fraser's spirits, it would take work. Literally. 

_Oh, Hell. Is tomorrow really all that far off?_

"Well, I've got an idea, Benny. We got tons of stuff to be done around here, but why don't you join me at the precinct? In addition to my other cases, I was finally able scheduled Tanya Camfetel to come in for an interview. I'd like to go over the questions with you." 

"Ah, yes. The girlfriend of the murdered security guard. Didn't she leave to visit relatives out of state for a while?" 

"Right. And by the time she was on her way back to Chicago, we were gone camping. I finally set up a time when we could talk." He shook his head. "She sounded anxious, asking if her conversation with me would remain confidential. Of course it will, yet why that would be a concern is a mystery to me." 

"She just may be nervous." Benny frowned a bit. "It was unfortunate so few leads have come forward." 

"Yeah, that is a bummer. At this point, Huey and Dewey have more evidence stating the Trio are not connected to the murdered security guard. That will be good news for James." 

"That is good." There was a pause before Benny said, "Thank you, Ray." 

Vecchio smiled. This way, at least Fraser wouldn't get stuck doing repairs back at West Racine or chasing death like he'd done in the past while solving a case. It wasn't the best of plans and it didn't erase the fact nothing had changed. However, it was better to make sure the Mountie was occupied, able to focus his energy on something. Ray looked at his other half, maybe even his better half. "That's okay, Benny. Monday just came early for us, that's all." 

* * *

It was snowing heavily for the first time since the beginning of winter and he wasn't looking forward to shoveling the walk in front of his mom's house, while Tony complained of another convenient backache. Luckily, Ray was able to sneak out of work on time and teamed up with Fraser to pick up some last-minute gifts. The Riv was back in his possession, as promised by the Mountie and as predicted by Ray, confirming who had the better haggling power between them. The Riv handled herself well, as thick snow tried it's best to flatten Chicago. People were so busy during this time, it wasn't unusual for the Detective to send presents before and after the day they were meant to be received. Vecchio was going to be busy for the next week as well, whether it was with his mother, helping her cook her usual feast or at work, trying to keep the crime down during this supposedly sacred time. It was, after all, a few days before Christmas. 

It reminded him of the cross his mother gave him at age twelve, the one he still wore, even though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because out of all the Vecchio children who received the small, gold crucifix, he was the only one who still had his. Frannie gave hers to her husband, who never returned it after their much needed divorce. His older brother, always the tough guy, was too callous to wear it. One of his nieces hid Maria's and to this day, it's never been found. But their loss didn't explain his continued connection with the holy necklace. 

His father did enough damage as to where it was difficult to believe in much of anything except the power of what one person could withstand. And that one person was his mother, Rosa Vecchio. Unlike Thanksgiving or Easter, which _were_ celebrated, just not with the same zeal, Ma made sure the last half of the last month of the year was exceptionally special. Growing up, Ray recalled having such fun decorating the tree, getting presents along with his siblings and eating until he was stuffed. There was nothing as peaceful as falling asleep to the soft glow of colored, twinkling lights. And at her insistence, the entire family would traditionally attend midnight mass, as always. In an attempt to make her happy, to repay her for those few, blessed memories, he would try his best to get everyone there on time and home safely. The complete chaos, of course, would make him even more stressed than if he were on duty. 

_At least I have to chase perps. Not so with the family. Clingy would be an understatement._

On some level, he understood his conflict the towards the cross. Long before Fraser came into his life, Ray was falling away from religion. Even as a child, he wasn't what one would call a devotee. Any occasion that required the sacrifice of Sunday, when school was officially closed, wasn't a thrilling event. Mandatory protocol included getting up early, taking a bath and dressing in your "good" clothes that were always a little tight and made him itch. He sat in a hideously uncomfortable pew, listening to a priest who told the same boring story over and over again - disobey the heavenly Grandpa and go to Hell. Once he became a teenager, confused and curious, he decided to read the bible for himself and see what it had to say. After tossing out most of the outdated, ignorant information, he concentrated on the teachings of Christ. 

Surprisingly, the word of the son of God sounded much more appealing and uplifting, than the overall negative doctrine he'd previously encountered. It was at that point, did he see why they are called miracles. He'd been blessed with only a few in his life, just enough to recognize them. He had his health and wealth, however modest. His family was relatively safe and happy. His career was solid for the time being. Being with Benny made him a better person, despite the bad times. Perhaps this was the explanation for his continuing to wear the symbol that held the last remnants of his faith. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all. 

"Now, let's see..." said the Canadian, who was looking at a small list of the gifts they'd obtained. "Are you still getting free gifts for your co-workers?" 

"Only the ones who deserve them." The Italian looked at the huge bottle and could not for the life of him figure out what size it was. There was enough activity in the large party store so that he really wasn't being noticed just standing there, squinting at the row of liquor on the forth shelf, trying to see the ounces on the bottle he wanted to purchase. "Cards will do for my extended relatives. With Ma and Frannie and the rest, of course, I had to go out of my way for, or I'd never be allowed to forget it. So here I am, pounding the pavement in this weather! You know, it's people like you, who get all their shopping done before Thanksgiving, who are just unnatural." 

"It's just a matter of planning your time correctly, Ray and-" 

"The last thing I want to hear right now, Fraser, is a lecture on time management." 

"Yes, Ray." One could say Benny's smile was just a bit smug. "I believe your mother will enjoy the food processor." 

"She should. It's got enough attachments to be the next Julia Child. Now maybe she'll stop mixing cake batter by hand." 

"And Francesca has the jewelry box." 

"Yeah, the one the size of a small filing cabinet. I got it so Franny could, for the first time in her life, keep all her jewelry and makeup in one place and not leave it all over the house so Ma can complain about it." 

There were the free "Spa and Bath" coupons he'd come across for Elaine and Dief had a new bed, hopefully meaning Ray would not have to wake up being squeezed in between a Mountie and sixty pounds of arctic wolf. Welsh was getting a gift card from a men's clothing shop, since Ray refused shop fashion for the man he worked for. There was little as confusing as trying to buy the "correct" style tie for your boss. Vecchio had squirreled away several presents for Fraser, including a few free visits to the shoe repair shop, a couple of new books and tickets to the theater. 

He went back to surveying the bottle. Earlier, as he and Benny perused the shops at the mall, Ray kept wondering what he could get J.P. for the upcoming holiday. Pace wasn't overtly religious, celebrating the 25th of December as more of a family gathering, a chance to repay one's fellow man with good food, fun times and gifts that reflected what the relationship meant to him. So, why was it with every store Ray came across, he still couldn't think of what to get for James? Luckily, on their way home, the Detective stopped to pick up some hot cocoa and suddenly, there it was. Finally, he'd seen something he remembered was a favorite of J.P.'s. "So, you're thinking of getting something here for James?" 

The Mountie was standing behind him now, looking in the same direction as Vecchio and Ray wondered if somehow they were looking at the same liqueur. "Yeah, I found it." 

Ray went up to the counter, asked for it by name and paid nearly fifty dollars for the fairly large container of syrupy-sweet spirits. "He once told me a long time ago he loved this stuff. I think he'll like it now." 

"That's very considerate of you, Ray." 

"Ah, it's nothing compared to what he can afford." 

Ray's own statement made his natural curiosity perk up. It didn't set right with him, to joke about James' seemingly hefty income. Honestly, the Detective was highly, yet embarrassingly, intrigued to discover what J.P. would get him for Christmas. He was almost, dare he say, eager to find out. Tired, the cop concluded the hucksters would be there tomorrow to take his money for offerings he still needed to acquire. Ray and Fraser left the store and headed for home. 

* * *

The snow had stopped for the time being, leaving the city under a mound of pale ice and gray sludge. However, the temperature was getting higher as of late, which caused just a spark of spring fever in the winter-hating cop. It was a steady forty degrees when the Italian decide to leave work and drop off his present to James. He made it to the main headquarters of Aegis Security without incident and was on his way to J.P.'s office. He waved to Natalie, James' secretary, or administrative assistant, as they preferred to be called these days. She waved back and smiled, since she was on the phone. Vecchio knocked on the frosted glass door, which was imprinted with J.P.'s name and status. The Detective smiled, wondering how many times Pace wanted to take a marker and write something profane or comical over the bold lettering detailing his position. 

"Enter!" called a familiar voice. 

Ray walked into the large, yellow-brown office. Pace was glaring at the nervous young man sitting directly across from him. J.P.'s desk was surprisingly organized, with just some forms in front of him. The two men carried on their conversation like Ray wasn't in the room. Pace was professionally dressed, in a dark bronze suit, black tie and small, black framed glasses. 

_Michael T. Weiss meets G.Q._ shook his head, while mentioning, in a mix of envy and disgust, the attractive actor his friend had been compared to more than once. _J.P.'s sense of style makes him even more handsome. God, I hate him!_

"I can do it, sir. I know I can. If you just...help me out here." said the younger man with a serious southern drawl. Vecchio couldn't help but see the words 'white trash' written all over the guy. 

"I've helped you already, Brad. Several times now. They don't want you back at that store and quite frankly, I don't blame them." 

"I screwed up! More than once, I know. But I can't lose this, you know that." 

J.P. held his hands up in surrender. "Why should I believe you? What proof do you have it will be different from now on?" 

"I don't know, but I can! I will, you'll see. What do you say?" 

Pace cupped his forehead, staring skeptically at the person on the other side of his desk. "Fine! Fine! I'll give you another chance." 

"Alright!" 

The Kid Rock wanna-be erupted in joy, only to be silence by Pace's stern voice. "HEY! _Listen_ to me, dearest!" J.P. snapped, as he pointed a finger at him. "You are NOT going back to that department store! You're staying where you are now, at the second hand shop." 

"What?! But-" 

"No, buts! Get out there and act like the worker I know you can be." 

Chastised, the thug relented. "Yes, sir." 

"Now, get out! I wanna' go home." 

Once the happy goon left the room, Vecchio said, "Well, look at you! All decked out and no one cares. Hey, does dismissing your subordinates and a clean work area mean you can actually, realistically, skip out of here early?" 

Pace literally growled, his eyes closing to narrow slits. "No, you are mistaken, love. However, seeing you _are_ here, it gives me an excuse to get out on time. Give me twenty minutes, then I can join you. By the way, I am happy to see you." He went back to doing paperwork. 

"Of course you are. I can see the way you're jumping for joy." 

"My mundane execution of sitting here is about all that's gonna' happen, hon. What did you have in mind for tonight?" 

Ray sat facing J.P. "Well, I was thinking of renting a movie, ordering some food, perhaps. I can't stay long, though. I need to get home before it gets too late. I gotta' help my mom with some stuff." 

"Sounds good. Let's get something with Bruce Willis or just something with loud blasts. I'll need the explosions to keep me awake." 

"Hey, if you're too tired, I can just go on home." 

James winced. "No, no, no! I am _not_ going home only to pass out. I need some company right now to remember what being alive is like." 

Vecchio could tell how subdued James was. There wasn't that usual spark about the man and his entire body language read exhaustion. Problem was, the holidays weren't over yet, so Pace wasn't going to see any relief for at least a couple of weeks. That was a good reason for the Detective to come over to James' place, as planned. J.P. needed some down time and Ray wanted to make sure his friend was able to get away from the craziness for a while. The Detective read the paper while James finished up work, made a few phones calls, filed a few forms, then called it a day. 

"Okay, sport! We are outta' here!" James took off his glasses and put them in his desk drawer. 

"Has it been twenty minutes already?" 

"Nah, but I'm not gonna' get anything else done with you sitting there, giving me that sad, puppy dog look." 

"Don't flatter yourself." 

"No, I got you to do that for me." 

"You wish! You want me to follow you back to your place?" 

"Yeah, that's fine." 

The two men were on their way out of the room, when Natalie called out, "Leaving early, are we?" 

J.P. faced her, yet kept walking away, only backwards. "Don't tell anybody! It's a secret!" he loudly whispered. 

She laughed and Pace resumed his forward stride with Ray, who asked, "How late have you been staying?" 

"Oh, it depends. Sometimes I don't get home until eleven. Usually, I'm at the mall, or other places we offer our elite services of protection. I've been double checking the employee schedules, rotations, stuff like that. I _refuse_ to have anything happen during the next few weeks, especially since it's our biggest money making time of the year and we're still recovering from the escapades caused by the Trio." 

They were in the elevator now, descending towards the parking lot in the basement. "I was meaning to ask you about that." said Ray. "Do you think maybe Michael Perkins, the security guard who was murdered, had anything to do with the Trio?" 

Pace's face blanked of emotion. "I don't know, Ray. Perhaps. But that's not the perspective the other Detectives had." 

Vecchio found that odd. It was like J.P. hadn't even considered the possibility. "As a matter of fact, Tanya Camfetel _was_ going to come see me, but I heard Michael Perkinson's mother had a stroke, so she cancelled her appointment." 

James whipped around, shocked. "Mrs. Perkinson had a stroke?!" 

"Yeah. Why? Did you know her?" 

J.P.'s eyes were full of surprise and grief. "I met her only a couple of times. She was incredibly grateful I'd hired Michael. She was so happy he was trying to make it and thankful I was giving him a chance. I saw her at the funeral." Pace became withdrawn as he spoke. "I wonder why Tanya didn't call me? " 

"Look, I didn't mean to bring up old pain. I was just trying to figure out some stuff." 

The comment revived James and he seemed to get hold of himself. "Yes. Of course. We're off the clock now...let's not talk shop." 

"You hungry?" 

"Not at the moment. I'm too wound up from work. I will soon be, though, that much I can tell you." 

They exited the lift and Ray started towards the Riv. "Yeah, I'm the same way. I leave the precinct, go home and find out Fraser hasn't cooked a thing because he's too busy helping a neighbor de-flood their attic." 

Pace laughed. "You know, I think I have almost started to understand your relationship with the immobile Mountie." 

"'Immobile'? What do you mean?" Vecchio turned around, only to see J.P. literally sliding around on some ice near the wall. The cop smiled, not remembering the last time he _willingly_ danced on frozen water. 

_I swear he's the biggest kid in the world. And just about as obnoxious._

"Oh, come on now. He is pretty, how do say, 'stiff"." 

Vecchio crinkled his brow. "You mean he's uptight?" 

"To put it mildly." 

"Please! You don't think I know that? It's what makes me crazy a lot of the time." 

J.P. took out a small remote. "It's also what makes you crazy about him." 

"Yeah, okay, in a way. He keeps me in check, ya' know? Let's me know there's a reason to keep trying." 

"Some would say, Ray, the two of you are a case of 'opposites attract.'" Pace pressed a little button, causing the horn to sound off twice. "However, I think it's more like 'two peas in a pod'." 

The Detective was about to asked what did he mean, when the car horn caught him off guard, seeing the silver BMW had a unique alarm system. He turned and nearly fell on his face. "James! What is that?!" 

"What does it look like? It's my other car." 

"Your other...?!" Ray gaped. "You own two cars?!" 

"Yeah. Why's that so shocking?" 

The thought that had been niggling in his mind for months fell right out of his mouth. "How can you afford it? The BMW alone costs a fortune. Now you say this one's yours as well?!" 

"This Lexus is a _company_ car, as in owned by Aegis. Is that good enough for you, officer?" 

The cop couldn't help airing his concern. "Hey, I just wondered was what was up. You seem to throw money around like water." 

"Well, I didn't mean to make you oh-so-jealous, my dear. You know, that sorry trait is going to keep you a sour, old stepsister, while I am transformed into Cinderfella! Someday, I'll let you ride in my _other_ pumpkin, my prince." 

"Hey, _I_ sure as Hell don't wanna see you in glass slippers! Let's go." 

* * *

"Geez, who turned up the heat in here?!" 

The Detective began taking off his coat and jacket, as Pace turned down the thermometer. Ray put the large, brightly-colored sack he was carrying on the kitchen counter. It was no surprise to Ray that James hadn't really decorated the apartment for the upcoming holiday. There was some lights in the window and a wreath hung on in the inside of his elevator door. Other than that, there was little sign of Christmas in the Pace abode. Come New Years Eve, however, the loft would be transformed into Party Central. Pace would have a shindig to rival the local hard core clubs. 

James took off his suede brown jacket, as Vecchio divested himself of his own outer layer. While hanging up both coats, he indicated the giftbag and said, "Now, are you going to tell me what it is?" 

"No! You have to open it!" Vecchio protested. 

Off came the suit jacket and tie. "Ah! Your going to make me suffer. I thought you weren't into all that dominating stuff." Pace pulled the beige dress shirt over his head, revealing a snow white tank top, 

"Sorry, that ain't..." Ray said, as J.P.'s smoothly removed the tank top and bunched it up. "...my style." Almost immediately, the cop was thrown off-base, making him end his complaint a bit late. Vecchio unwittingly scanned the impossibly tanned and toned torso, rippling stomach and dark brown nips. The cop's mouth dropped open and his brain screamed. It yelled the same obscenity when Elaine once wore a black mini-skirt, high-heels and fishnets. Abruptly, he turned away, ashamed and a bit panicked. 

_Okay, so he's better looking than you remembered. No need to stare, Vecchio!_

James disappeared into the bedroom. "Give me just a second," J.P. called out, "and let me get comfortable." 

"Not a problem." Ray said back, hoping Pace hadn't seen him react as such. 

"There we are. Much better." James came out in a large, brown T-shirt and baggy jogging pants, without shoes. Going over to the fridge, he asked, "Want anything to drink?" 

"A beer is fine." 

"Two beers, coming up." Pace handed Ray a cold bottle, then seated himself on the large couch, crossing his legs in a causal manner. "Good GOD, am I glad to be home!" 

"Been working you to death, huh? I know the feeling." 

J.P. laid his head back on the couch, eyes closed and spoke to the ceiling. "I'm just glad we were able to resolve that lawsuit filed by Lord  & Taylor. A nice, fat settlement shut them up good. At least _you're_ doing something real. All I do is help women rent baby strollers and direct mom and screaming tot to the current sales shops. " 

"I wouldn't say that. You seemed to really help that one guy in your office today." 

Pace smiled. "Oh yeah, Brad. Poor dude. If he wasn't so pathetic, he'd be cute." 

"What's up with him?" 

"Sadly, he's a chronic alcoholic. He can barely do the job he has, but I don't have the heart to fire him. He'd wind up on the streets, I just know it." 

"See? There you go. That's definitely an example of doing something 'real'. I mean, where else would he get a job with a boss as understanding as you?" 

"I guess. I just get tired of trying to stop everybody and their uncle from stealing the entire mall. And man, does it get bad around now! That makes so little sense, that crime gets worse during this time of year." 

Ray sat in the love seat. "I was thinking the same thing! I don't know, it's kinda goofy, expecting bad people to be nice for a change because the calender says so." 

"Excuse my selfishness, but it'd make my life easier, that's for damned sure." 

Ray gulped the bitter, golden liquid. "Same here." 

"It's not just the shoplifting and parents brawling over the latest toys. At various points in a three-hundred, sixty-five day span, it seems the strangeness in people comes out when it's least called for." 

"Hey, that covers about half of the cases I get involved in, especially with Fraser hanging around." 

"He tends to attracts the odd sect of society, doesn't he?" J.P. said, stating the obvious. 

Ray raised his brow. "Hate to say it, but yes, it's either the bizarre gravitate toward him or he seeks it out. I have to admit, though. I've learned a lot, stuff I never would've dreamed of. The man is nothing, if not dedicated." 

"That would make sense, his being water to your fire." J.P. crinkled his brow. "Didn't you say he dressed as a woman once, for a case?" 

"Yeah." Ray said, reliving the typically quirky event. "It was a necessary, but very peculiar experience, let me tell you." 

The other man squinted his eyes, still gazing straight up. "Wait...I'm getting a picture here. It's not a pretty sight...literally." 

"At least you didn't have to dance with him." 

"Hey, his weirdness did eventually get you two together, right?" 

Ray's eyes were closed, his tone prickly, "Yeah, it did, I guess." 

The dark-eyed Italian looked up, detecting the doubt in Ray's voice. "What do you mean by that?" 

J.P.'s question was laced with true concern, not the flippant tone it usually held. The Detective wanted to confide in his friend, to let Pace in on some of the intimate problems he and Fraser were having. The no-so subtle disputes were more than apparent with Benny acting like a human punching bag. Yet, for the Detective, what went on in the sack was all very private and honestly embarrassing and Vecchio felt awkward in explaining himself. One could not deny, however, that some of his concerns were valid. Was it so wrong to want to talk to someone about Benny... other than Benny? He finished the last of the beer, thinking the liquid fortitude might help expose the cracks in his life. Ray proceeded, with caution. 

"Earth to Ray! Are you still with us, hon?" 

The cop smiled. "Still here. Just examining the big picture." 

"Hey, share the wealth, if you get it figured out." 

Ray looked down, unable to meet his friend's gaze. He tried to sound casual at the start, then build up to the serious issues troubling him. "Yeah, well...he and I have been good. We have. It can just be challenging sometimes." 

"In what way? I mean other than the obvious." 

"You know how he lives to save the day, right?" 

Vecchio could see it in his friend's face - the incident of the Trio came back with stark clarity. "But, of course." 

The cop's face had fallen, reflecting his mood. Still, he could not let Pace see how empty his eyes were when it came to such profoundly painful topics. "Well, he's extreme in other ways, too." 

"How? Oh, please tell me it's not the 'tissue issue' or something trivial like that." 

Vecchio smiled, wishing it were that unimportant. "I know I'm lucky to have him, it's just...like you said he's...very restrained." 

"Look, Ray," James said, detecting Vecchio's hesitancy, "I know when I see two people in love. I've been there myself a few times. Okay, so things right now aren't rosy-red. Take my word for it, the both of you are head-over-heels." 

"Hmph. That's the word on the street, I hear." Ray responded darkly. 

According to the Detective's, sudden, down demeanor, it seemed no one would dream stealing the Canadian for themselves. But the Constable was considered a prize by many and there _were_ predators out there. The darker Italian didn't understand the cop was referring to Benny's icy sex drive. 

"Well, it's not as if you have to worry about someone taking Mrs. Fraser away. And, believe me, Fraser doesn't have to worry about such a thing either. " quipped James while opening his second beer. The statement indicated that while intriguing, the Mountie in drag was not the most beautiful "female" available...and that Vecchio would never leave Fraser intentionally anyway. 

However, the ego-bruised Italian saw it as a snide swipe to his own appearance and a boon to Fraser's superior looks and good nature. Pace's hateful claim stunned Vecchio, that no one would even _try_ to abscond with the city-weary, glorified patrolman. 

"What the Hell do you mean by that?!" Ray snapped. 

Pace was nonplused at first. "What?! I was just saying-" 

"Just because you have to beat them off with your nightstick doesn't mean you can say shit like that!" 

"All I said was you and Fraser are stuck like glue! What the Hell did you think I meant?!" 

The green eyes dropped, embarrassed, but there was a raw hurt about them. "Nothing." 

"'Nothing'!? You are full of 'nothing' lately, you know that?! Why have you been so edgy these days anyway? And for your info, buddy, my involvement is pretty cold right now." 

Ray couldn't help but let out some of his resentment. "That's by choice! Let me tell you what it's like for us 'commoners'! This is life, this is the way it is. It doesn't get any better and you just pray it doesn't get any worse. You take what you get. That's the way it is for 98% of the population!" 

"Okay, that's it! Spill it! Tell me what's going on right now." 

Vecchio stared at his friend. At this point, he couldn't wiggle out of a truthful answer. He stayed silent. Ray wanted to tell him, wanted to let James in on what was happening. Benny's coldness cut Ray so deeply, and in a way he didn't think could ache so terribly. And, he was intensely guilty for damn near obsessing over what many would dismiss as just a lack of sex. But it wasn't just that. Ray wasn't sure he could handle another episode like the Trio again, when Benny nearly died for the umpteenth time. It was all affecting his life on too many levels. Perhaps it was best to talk about it, to get it out in the open. Besides, it wasn't fair to James and his friendship to let this situation make waves. Reluctantly, Ray plowed ahead, his eyes everywhere but on Pace. "You know how Fraser acts like he doesn't know what all those females are after, unless they're impossible to have?" 

Sensing this was important, Pace leaned forward. "Yeah...I have noticed that." 

"Well, he's like that...with everyone...all the time...like he just wants nothing more than to be _really_ good friends and that's it, no matter who he's with. _That's_ why I've been so edgy lately." 

Their eyes met and James stared, his jaw opening, then he caught himself and glanced elsewhere, stupefied. Ray said nothing, letting the unexpected information settle in, that the enthusiastic, manipulative Mountie was indeed mostly dead below the waist 

"You...mean he's cold...all the way around?" J.P. asked, making sure he'd heard correctly. 

"Not all the time, but mostly...he's as frigid as the Northern Territories." Ray confessed. 

Still floored, James shook his head. "Wow. I'm sorry to hear that. It wasn't _that_ bad, but it happened as well with me and Tracy, the one girl I got involved with. It was like no matter what I did, what I planned or came up with, it wasn't enough to keep her wanting me often enough." 

"Came up with?" Vecchio echoed. 

"Yeah. I used to think of ways to make sure she enjoyed it. Different ways of doing it, various kinds of stuff I thought she'd liked like." 

Vecchio blanched. He'd _never_ had a lover so considerate as to plan the event prior to hitting the sheets! "You...you mean you'd think of it beforehand?" 

J.P. was casual. "Sure. Don't you do stuff like that?" 

Dazed, Ray had to think about it, then said, "Not to that extent. But what I did do really didn't make a dent anyway." 

"Like what?" 

"Oh, I did the shtick of the wine, roses, candlelight and soft music. But such aforethought proved to be a moot point." 

It was a painful truth. Typically romantic gestures just didn't get Fraser going. Honestly, Vecchio was pleased and honored at Pace confiding in him such information about his own significant other and was enjoying this little exchange of theirs. They weren't a couple of guys who sat around bitching about their mates and all the battles surrounding their relationships. This was a true venting of mutual frustration and sympathy. 

"And, what I meant earlier, was that you," he indicated with a tip of his bottle in Vecchio's direction, "would never leave Fraser for someone else." 

James finished off his beer and retrieved another one. Without asking, he gave another one to Ray as well. 

"Ha!" Ray crowed. "I've had enough Humiliation Therapy for one lifetime, thanks." 

Pace scowled. "Jeez, Ray! Will you stop downing yourself? You are _not_ an infected rat's ass who dared to see the light of day. Hey, remember that time when we were covering the break-ins at that Greek restaurant?" 

A giggle floated up in Vecchio, who smiled at the memory. "Yeah, 'course I do! The busboy kept pinching me. I never did figure out why he did that to me and not you." 

"Obviously, you were his type. You're very forward, very masculine, Ray. Many gay men like that. Especially other forward, masculine, gay men." 

"Okay, I'll give you that. But I just don't have that kind of a fanclub. _IF_ someone talks to me, as soon as they find out I'm a cop, the next thing they want is their parking tickets fixed, not a quick roll in the Riv." 

Pace fixed Ray with a coy gaze and slowly scooted down on the couch, legs splayed. "No one?" he playfully asked. "You know of no one who might have wanted you, past or present?" 

Ray gave him a hard look. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

James straightened on the couch. "Okay, look, the only reason I'm saying this is because lately you've been seein' yourself as this horny toad, warts and all." 

"Oh, and what are you, the lonely damsel who'll kiss me and make me a prince?" 

"Is that an invitation?" Pace quizzed in a extremely feminine lilt. His normal voice stated, "Seriously, back when we were both in uniform, I just happened to entertain the notion of you a couple of times." 

Shock flashed through him and Ray gaped, his eyes bulging. " _What?!_ Just what the Hell are you saying, Pace?" 

J.P. laughed. "Don't worry, Ray. It wasn't exactly wine and roses. It wasn't long after I met you, when I thought you were latently bent." 

Vecchio violently shook his head, his disbelief near fatal levels. "Are you telling me...", his voice dropped to a fierce whisper,..."you _fantasized_ about me?!" 

Pace shrugged. "It was before I got to know you, if that helps. Honestly, it was only a couple of times and something out of a bad porn film. No finesse at all." 

Incredulous, Vecchio bellowed, "That is absurd!" 

"Yeah, you're right. Actually it _was_ kinda' goofy. With all that chasing women and bravado you would do! Sheesh, you were so, _so_ far in the closet and I wasn't going to be the one to pull you out and drag you to the into the storage room." 

Vecchio glowered at him. "Enough! I don't need details!" 

"Oh, now you wanna' slam my haughty affection! I thought it was a prize to acquire amongst 'the commoners.' How did you say it, '98% of the population'? What did you mean by that anyway?" 

"I meant the rest of society who doesn't have the God-given 'assets' like you and Fraser." 

James leaned back again, grinning modestly. "Well, now. I didn't know I was easy on those old green eyes. Does the sight of me please you, Ray?" 

The Detective frowned, not liking how...suggestive this conversation was getting. He also didn't care for the way the warm flattery and attention...tingled, in a rippling pattern, like a light kiss on the back of his neck. Forcing menace into his voice, he said, "If you think I'm gonna' say you make the Mountie look like Pee-Wee Herman, it ain't gonna' happen! I just notice these days by default." 

"Oh, yes. Now that you're playing for my team. That makes sense. But why are you so wound up over it? I did this pseudo-flirting all the time in the past, remember?" 

Scene of their previous friendship flitted back to Vecchio. Pace was correct. While still in dress blues, it was common for James to joke about the carnal preferences of others, the sexual comedy routine laced with witty banter. "You got a point. Even so, you're no Fraser. In that same period, the time I spent with Benny paled in comparison. And that was before he and I got together. We were practically siamese twins." 

"I'm sorry, Ray, about your dilemma. I don't what I can tell you. The worse part is I can see it's not even a matter of personal taste. It's not a stretch to see you would do just about anything Fraser wanted, whether it pleased you or not. A pirate's dream, indeed." 

"A what?" 

There was a decided gleam in Pace's eyes. "A pirate's dream. You know, hidden treasure inside a valued antique chest." 

It took a second for Ray to recover from the creative praise. "That's the best I've ever heard someone describe an old trunk." Even as he tossed off the harsh answer, the lyrical appraisal acted like a stiff drink, pooling in his stomach and quickly permeating to his extremities in a heated glow. He shook it off, realizing it would take some time to once again get used to J.P. sweet-talking him like a would-be lover. 

"See it as you wish, love. Heck, I've only had one lover like that, someone who would so far out of their way. And let me tell you...it was difficult to give up." 

"You mean Keith?" 

J.P. nodded, finishing his beer. "It got to the point where he didn't want to make any decisions without my approval. What to wear, what to eat, where to spend his free time. I couldn't handle that." 

Just the description spooked Vecchio. "Jeez. That does sound intense." 

"Overwhelming, is what it was. Oh sure, I could get the guy to crawl around on his knees naked in a heartbeat. He just never wanted to get dressed again." 

Ray started giggling. "Oh, the horror! The horror!" 

"Oh, you think that's funny, huh!?" 

"Hell, yeah! I'll let your know when I can complain about such things." 

"Fine. Now you've done it." Pace got up and walked over to his huge entertainment system. "I was going to spare you this fate. But since you're determined to be a terror, I'm going to make you a junkie." 

"Excuse me? And just what vice do you have that I can't refuse?" 

"How long have you been gay, Ray?" 

"What kind of a question is that?" 

"And how long has Fraser been acting like a Mountie popsicle?" 

"Again, what is your point?" 

Ray could hear his friend getting closer as he spoke. "Uh-huh. Questions to my questions, just like I thought. " J.P. went over to the VCR and popped in a video and said nothing as the tape started to play. He got two beers and gave another one to Ray. 

"Downing these a little fast, eh? How about we order that food?" Ray put the bottle on the floor. 

"Hey, it's only number three for you. Don't finish it, if you don't want it. Watch the screen, dear." 

The name came up, "Falcon Studios," followed by the really bad name, "Frat Boys hit the Field." 

Ray rolled his eyes. "Porn!? _This_ is my salvation?! " 

"Oh, come on, Ray! I'll bet you own two tapes and you never watch those because it makes you feel guilty. Am I right?" 

"Well, I'm sorry for not having Jeff Striker's autograph." 

Pace was already back at the video cabinet, selecting various tapes from his collection. "There's nothing wrong with having a few visual images to burn off some stream, my friend. How do you think I went cold turkey after my breakup with Keith? The Mountie won't mind, will he?" 

Vecchio grunted, trying to not look at the screen. "He'd probably be grateful." 

"Good. I picked some special ones 'cause I know how much you love a baby face!" He placed five cassettes in front of the seated Italian. "Now can I open my present?" 

While going over the films, he said, "Go ahead. Knock yourself out." 

There was a rustle of paper, then, " _Sweet!_ Oh, thank you so much! This is great!" 

Vecchio should've seen it coming, but the half-bear hug and kiss on the top of the head took him by surprise. "Hey, HEY! _Contain_ yourself! It's just liquor!" 

"This is no regular liquor, man! It's a humongous bottle of Bailey's Irish Creme! This stuff is _divine_. How much did you pay for it?" 

"I'm not telling you that!" 

"Fine. Then you don't get to ask that of me." With that, Pace plopped a red, shiny package into Ray's lap. 

"What's this?" 

"Open it and see." 

"Well, I hope you kept the receipt. The last thing I want..." He stopped talking once he ripped open the wrapping. He stopped thinking and nearly stopped breathing at the sight of the box in his lap. It said the name of a designer, Bruno Magli, on top. Frantically, he tore the box open and swallowed thickly while holding up one shoe. "Oh... _God_ , James..." Shock was once again making his mind swirl around in a haze. "I can't take these...from you! They cost over three hundred dollars!" 

"Nonsense." Pace said, dismissive. "I saw the way you were caressing them in that shoe store awhile back." 

"But, how-?" Vecchio stopped short, wanting to ask how J.P. could afford them at all. Seeing that wasn't a very grateful thing to say, he muttered, "I mean, thanks...these are really great. Really." 

"I'm glad you like them. I didn't pay much for them. The shop owner owed me a favor." 

"Oh, God! Knowing you, I don't even want to know what that was! And here I just got you booze." 

J.P. laughed, although it was obvious he was having a hard time not watching the heated action on the tube. "But it's delicious booze. Want some?" 

"Nah. I think maybe we should order some food. I'm getting hungry, plus I gotta' leave in a while. What about you? James!" 

Tearing his eyes away from the two humping bodies, he blurted, "Yeah?" 

"That flick a favorite of yours?" 

Pace blushed, "Sorta'. That one guy reminds me of many a fun times." 

"Then perhaps you should turn it off before we both need cold showers? Besides, what are you contemplating so heavily?" 

The darker Italian shook his head to clear it, announcing, "Nothing the Mountie would appreciate! Now how about some seafood? I know of a great place that delivers." 

"Sounds good. After that, I gotta' get home." 

"Then I won't get oysters. Talk about a deadly combination." 

* * *

End No Sense Is Nonsense VI- Justice is Afoot by LadyAna:

Author and story notes above.


End file.
